


Conversations

by suchlostcreatures (godfmischief)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Gray Jedi, Gray Jedi Kylo Ren, Gray Jedi Rey, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Present Tense, Reylo - Freeform, Slow Burn, but we'll see how that goes, i don't play well with happy endings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 01:54:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16567361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godfmischief/pseuds/suchlostcreatures
Summary: “I severed the bond.” She repeats. Words grinding like sand between her teeth.“No you didn’t,” he counters, “you just closed the door.”------A series of Force Bond one-shots.





	1. Chapter 1

The kriffin' bond has been bridged once more.

She senses his presence as she enters the solitude of her sleeping hut. Feels it as a sudden stillness in both the Force and the air around her. As if the very universe is at this moment holding its breath. But such a comparison is too vague when, in truth, she can sense him more accurately than that. Like a black thread woven into a white cloth, his Force signature is a strained web of darkness amidst the light. Stretched taut like a bowstring ready to snap. She can feel him there in those blackened threads. The churn of his emotions. The raw tumultuous anger. The deep aching loneliness. The sharp twisting grief. That… That’s an unexpected one.

She snaps her own feelings shut. His problems are his own.

“You’re not here.” She states crisply, taking care to hold her voice steady against the prickle of apprehension that has begun its crawl from the nape of her neck; to run in shudders across her skin. “I severed the link.”

He remains silent as she turns to confront him. His face hidden behind the fathomless darkness of his cowl. She squeezes her eyes closed, knuckles pressed to her sides; willing the cloaked figure before her to fade. Perhaps, she hopes futilely, this is all just a dream. Has she already lain upon her bench? Exhausted by the efforts of her day? Perhaps so. Perhaps she need only refocus her energy - to will herself to wake, and it will be so. And he will be gone.

“You’re right about one thing.” The voice is calm. Steady. “I’m not really here.”

Ah, but there is an edge to his tone. It betrays him in those final three words. Irony? Of course. No doubt he’s as unwilling to be forced into this communication as she.

“I severed the bond.” She repeats. Words grinding like sand between her teeth.

“No you didn’t,” he counters, “you just closed the door.”

“Why, Ben?” She wonders if he will correct her over the hated use of his old name. There’s an anger surging within her veins that threatens to boil over at any moment. To spill from her in a torrent of rage. No. _It’s not the Jedi way_. The phrase almost makes her snort.

“Why, what?” His tone has changed. Lightening where she expects shadows. She wonders how he can keep himself so composed. Perhaps, she thinks, she’s not the only one holding her eyes closed.

“It’s been a long time.” She begins tersely. “Why are you here now?  
  
“I’m _not_ here, remember? I thought we’d established that already.”

He’s laughing at her, she realises.  Mocking her! Pushing herself to her feet, Rey snaps open her eyes and springs forward; one hand outstretched towards her saberstaff as she uses the Force to call it to her fingertips.

He holds his ground unflinching as she ignites and whirls the weapon, slamming it into his form. _Through_ his form.

There’s nothing. No waver. No ripple. No transfer of energy. The staff simply sweeps through his body as if passing through thin air. Which, of course, it is. Frustration causes her skin to flush. What does she really expect? That she’ll be able to touch him through the Force as she had on Ahch-To? Shaking her head, she drops the weapon with a clang upon the dirt floor. Feels the anger ebb uselessly beneath her skin.

“I see you’re still in need of a teacher.” The cowl has slipped back just enough for the chamber light to cast a golden glow upon the lines of his jaw. It dances the high arch of his cheekbones. His face has grown impossibly gaunt since they fought the Praetorian Guards side by side. But those sharp planes and deep hollows are all she can see, and suddenly she longs to bare the rest of his face. He can keep his tone neutral all he likes. But his eyes can’t lie. Not to her.

“And I see you’re still in need of a friend.”

It’s a bold choice of words. Had she taken just a nano-sec to think before speaking, she would have sooner swallowed her tongue. But it’s done now. She’s flung open a door. And she has no idea what now lays beyond it.

A sharp intake of breath. It is, for a moment, all that breaks the silence. And then, in a heartbeat, he is gone.

But he has left one thing in his wake.

That ache of loneliness?

Oh yes.

She feels it now.

This is, she realises wretchedly, how it feels to have a door close on your face.

 


	2. Balance

“How did you feel, after you killed Snoke?”

The abrupt voice at his back startles Kylo Ren into flinching. Caf sloshes over the edge of his cup, hot upon his sleeve as he sets it down at his well-polished permasteel desk. He hadn’t felt the Force bond opening between them; the telltale vacuum of sound and shift in perception failed to alert his senses.

The fact of this is almost as unsettling as the scavenger’s question.

“What do you mean?” guarded, stalling even, he turns slowly to face the girl. For the barest second his gaze flicks over her face, catching the dark scowl and stern press of her lips before dropping to take in the coarse brown robe and the hilt of the broken saber at her belt. A sharp pang twists at his stomach. He’s not sure if it’s over the loss of that saber, or fact that she’s wearing Jedi garb.

“Well, did you feel _anything_? Guilt? Grief?” Her words punch the air like accusations and he wonders where she’s heading with this. “Or was it no different than killing your father?”

Ah. There it is. They’re having _this_ conversation again.

He leans back against the bench, appraising Rey openly now as he idly wonders if he can press her into enough discomfort to make her forget the question. In the pause of silence, he reaches out with his mind. Just a little. Just to test if he can get a read on her despite their distance being so much greater than the four feet of durasteel flooring between them would suggest.

“Well?” She presses. Gaze unnervingly direct. And so full of mounting rage.

Sighing, he gives up on trying to skim her mind. Either he can’t across this distance, or she’s learnt how to deflect him.

“I felt released.” He answers at last. Calmly; the words a confession uttered into an abyss. “When I killed Snoke. I felt released. I felt... free.”

It's as if a weight has lifted, to say this aloud. Almost as much as the act of killing his Master had been. But his answer puzzles her. He doesn’t need to probe her mind to know this - he can see the uncertainty flicker across her face before she can shelve it. And as much as he knows he should tell her to mind her own business and break off this connection, he finds himself suddenly wanting to elaborate just a little more. Like an uncorked bottle ready to spill.

“For as long as I can remember, Snoke was in my head. Crooning. Threatening. Guiding. Cajoling. Even as a child -” He stops, breath catching as he realises he’s revealed far more than he ever intended. To her. To himself.

“Go on,” she urges, taking a half-step closer. And damned if there isn’t a trace warmth in her voice to soften that glacial edge. “I’m listening.”

“The thing is,” he presses himself back, and for a moment he could laugh at the realisation that he’s trying to escape this slip of a girl. But that impulse soon passes when he recognises it’s his own truth he wants to run from. Even as the words tumble from his mouth nonetheless. “I became so used to his presence at the back of my mind… I guess I stopped noticing he was there. Until he was gone.”

She waits in silence as he gazes into the mid-distance. He had no intention of revealing a word of this - not until he found himself opening his mouth. And now a tightness clenches at his gut as the reality of his words hit him. The truth, it seems, is indeed a bitter pill to swallow. Still, he feels compelled to continue. “It was only when the whispers stilled, that I finally recognised the decisions _I_ wanted to make.”

“So he had some kind of hold on you that you didn’t know was there?” There’s an almost desperate edge of hope to her voice. As if salvaging him really means that much to her. The surprise of it causes his reply to catch in his throat.

He shifts his gaze to meet her own. The earnest gleam in her eyes is almost his undoing. He doesn’t need to probe her mind to see she would deal easier with his evil misdeeds if she could convince herself that Snoke’s manipulations had been behind each one all along.

“And killing him released you.” There’s no question in her tone now. And since she’s formed a conclusion that works quite neatly to give him the redemption he craves, yet will never deserve, he finds himself nodding. And then he waits for her to bring up Han Solo again. Because that’s where she’s driving this conversation next, isn’t it?

But now the air around them is shifting; the low hum of the Star Destroyer’s engines purr into his conscience. The smell of the caf, cooling on his desk, drifts into his awareness. Their Force bond is fading. And damned if there’s not a glisten in her eyes as she takes another step towards him; one hand reaching for his own...

Then she is gone.

And he is left to sink into his chair. To rest his elbows upon the musty piles of delicate flimsi at his desk, and bury his head in his hands. The task of sifting through ancient star charts of the Unknown Regions, forgotten.

Besieged by an unacknowledged truth now laid bare, the confession of freedom does nothing to lift the weight of Snoke’s oppression from Kylo Ren’s shoulders. Instead, it prompts him to recognise his former Master’s whisperings for the manipulations they were. And know that he was merely a puppet - led to dance by Snoke’s strings.

The drone of engines fade once more as his thoughts drive deeper inwards. The air hangs in frigid suspension as the darkness within him coils and churns, seeking its own ventilation. His hand twitches, longing to beckon his saber to it. To unleash the rage boiling within the pit of his stomach.

Then a hand, feather-soft, settles upon his shoulder. The fingers firm but gentle as they squeeze a reassurance against his tensed muscles. He holds his breath, not daring to move until finally, he exhales with a controlled effort.

“You came back.” He manages at last. “How?”

“I don’t know.” There’s a tightness in her voice. “I didn’t want to leave you -- not like that. You looked…”

 _Wretched._ The word hangs unspoken, but he hears the vibration of it nonetheless.

Anger and shame pierce through him. He doesn’t need her pity. He doesn’t need anything - not from anyone. 

The hand pulls away. As if she’s only now realised she reached for him in the first place. In the absence of her warmth, the cold chill returns. Regret washes over him. Perhaps he needs her after all. 

“Join me.” It’s neither a demand nor a question. Damn him, if it’s not a plea.

“No.”

He can feel her slipping away again and it takes every last ounce of his will to hold himself from drawing her back in. He doesn’t _need_ her, he tells himself obstinately. Clenching his jaw against the muscle that twitches traitorously beneath his eye.

“But I’ll wait for _you_ to join _me_.”

The words echo as if bouncing off the very stars that divide them. And then she’s gone once more.

A smile tugs at his lips, despite himself. While he has no aspiration of giving up his position as Supreme Leader of the Galaxy and joining the Resistance or the new Jedi Order or whatever lost cause Rey is a part of, any time soon, he can’t help but feel amused by her boldness.

His gaze returns to the star charts before him, though he stares at them unseeing. Snoke indeed manipulated him for most of his life. But Snoke is gone. And he, Kylo Ren, _is_ the Supreme Leader. Light has been shed upon a future that once offered only darkness. And finally, it’s allowed him to see that which he’s craved all along. That which Snoke sought to keep from him.

Balance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every now and then my mind throws a potential Force Bond conversation between Ben & Rey in the vague direction of my imagination. And every now and then, I find myself compelled to type it out. A fragment here, a snippet there... Eventually, there winds up enough to form itself into some semblance of a chapter. 
> 
> Feedback is welcome.


End file.
